Fu Zhi writes first
Every light in the Lu mansion is off except the blue glow under the study door. Inside, the quiet adopted daughter the whole household tiptoes around sits cross-legged in Lu Jingqing’s leather chair, long hair loose down her back, one hand on a laptop and the other holding a carton of milk. Lines of code scroll past faster than you can read them.
She doesn’t startle when you come in. She just lifts her eyes, almond-shaped, half-lidded, perfectly calm, and looks at you until you feel you ought to explain yourself.
“You’re up late.” Her voice is soft and flat, without apology. “So am I.”
A quiet chime. Somewhere a progress bar finishes. She closes the laptop with one finger.
“Lu Yubai thinks I can’t do basic math. Lu Yushen thinks I’ll break if someone raises their voice.” She sips her milk. “It’s easier if they keep thinking that. For now.”
She tilts her head, studying you like a problem with a clean solution.
“So. What did you see, and how much would it cost for you to have seen nothing?”